


It's That Simple

by ashes



Category: Glee, Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Religious Themes & References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-24
Updated: 2011-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes/pseuds/ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been sent to offer a high school boy some guidance, and takes Dean along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's That Simple

**Author's Note:**

> Written because apparently on [the SpoilerTV poll](http://www.spoilertv.com/2011/05/tv-romance-competition-final-dean.html) all the shippers are being polite and supportive, and [the ships got shipped into "Klaistiel."](http://www.scattering-ashes.com/post/5769603014/im-reading-the-comments-on-the-dean-castiel-vs) I proceeded to write. Written on Tumblr and unbeta'd, so all faults are mine. I've never written Glee before. >__>;;

“I would like to ask your assistance.”

Dean raises an eyebrow over his drink — warm cheap whiskey from a plastic motel room cup — and shrugs. “Sure, whatever you need.” After that whole _thing_ , it doesn’t feel right to deny Castiel; it’s so much easier to _be there_  than to deny him anything. Not if he keeps him close. Dean shakes the thought away. “What do you need help with?”

“I’m being sent to this boy — he has some… doubts, and needs guidance.”

“Wow, big job,” Dean grouses, standing and finishing the rest of his drink in one foul gulp. “Angelic guidance counselor. What kind of doubts?”

Castiel is reaching forward to touch Dean’s forehead before Dean has time to back away. “It’s about a boy.”

They end up in a park in what feels like the ass-end of winter somewhere far too north for Dean’s liking — it’s dry and cold and there’s snow underfoot. Castiel is leading him down this path toward some dude on a bench under a streetlight. It looks like a painting, and Dean’s starting to feel uneasy.

When they reach the bench Castiel just sits there, without asking or saying anything, and Dean is left to stand off to the side, hands in his pockets. The kid is staring at them with wide-eyes — what must they look like, a messy dude in a trenchcoat and a scruffy guy who smells like whiskey?

Castiel finally breaks the silence. “Hello, Blaine.”

The kid — Blaine — leans away and clears his throat. “I was just leaving.”

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Castiel just _says_  and Dean groans, unable to stop himself as he smacks Castiel upside the head like he would if Sam had pulled that shit. They both look at him like he’s sprouted a second head.

“You can’t just open like that,” Dean says before he has time to think this over. “Remember — people don’t exactly buy that shit, and look at the kid. He doesn’t look like he asked for a freakin’ angel.”

The kid kind of stares, and stumbles through, “I mean, I said this — I was just kinda praying out of habit. You two don’t look like angels.” Castiel does that thing he does — shadows and flickering lights overhead and the hint of wings at his back — and Dean rolls his eyes. The kid looks convinced, though. “Oh my God. _What?_  Oh, shit, I mean — “

“Do not panic,” Castiel says, sparing one of those painfully awkward smiles and patting the kid on the shoulder. “I’ve been sent to bring you a message.” Dean feels for the kid, who leans back and winces. “Follow your heart.”

Dean almost laughs when the kid fixes Castiel with an incredulous scowl and says, “What kind of obvious platitude is that — and from _God?_  If I knew where my heart was going I wouldn’t be asking for a sign.”

“Tell me about him.” Castiel leans forward, looks so intently interested that Dean actually thinks he _is_. “Tell me what’s in your heart.”

“I…” Blaine runs a hand through his hair, sort of smiles as he looks off into some distance that neither of them can see. “He’s just… _himself._  I can’t compare him to anything, or explain him. He’s expressive and bold and honest. He wears his heart on his sleeve. When I’m around him I feel… right. Like it’s effortless, like we were made to be together and like the world would end if we were apart. But it just… happened. All at once. It feels so sudden.”

Dean has an uncomfortable moment where he’s staring at Castiel, hearing these things: _honest,_   _bold_ , _heart on his sleeve_. He remembers of the pain of thinking he’d lost Castiel — though, to be fair, the world _really had been ending_ , and Dean kind of wants to point out that high school relationships are hardly that, but he’s looking at Castiel, as he is, and Dean has an uncomfortable realization that maybe this was more than he realized.

But Castiel is staring intently at Blaine, and saying, “Perhaps it was always that way, and you just didn’t notice.” And he stands, looks at Dean for just a little too long. Dean’s breath catches in his throat. 

“It’s that easy?” Blaine asks as Castiel is walking away. Castiel doesn’t look back, pulling that aloof _the Lord works in mysterious ways_  crap, but Dean does.

“Yeah, kid,” he says with a quick smile. “It’s that easy.”


End file.
